


the swamp is alive with a thousand eyes

by luciferinasundaysuit



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, M/M, Southern Gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferinasundaysuit/pseuds/luciferinasundaysuit
Summary: There's a witch, and he's a dude, and he's hot. It's a lot to process.





	the swamp is alive with a thousand eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Swamp Witch” by Jim Stafford. Thanks to Brooke for the quick and dirty beta.

The shack's there, right where they said it would be, but it's really more of a cabin. Not scary or falling down. Well taken care of. Troy's not entirely sure he has the right place. He cautiously walks up to the house, looking to see if anyone's there. 

What does a swamp witch look like, anyway? Old? Beautiful? Like a random woman? He doesn't see anyone on the porch. He turns around to look back into the woods, like another dwelling might somehow appear. He kicks idly at the dirt. "Help you, boy?" he hears. He jumps, startled.

Troy whirls back around. Leaning against the post of the same porch that was empty seconds before is a man. He looks to be about Troy's age. He's thin but broad, and he's handsome, but his haircut looks like the haircut you'd expect a man living in a swamp to have. He's wearing unnecessarily tight jeans and a white t-shirt but no shoes. Troy licks his lips nervously. "I'm, uh. I'm looking for the swamp witch?" he says, feeling sheepish.

This random redneck dudebro is going to think he's fucking insane.

The redneck dudebro grins. "You found him." 

Troy gapes. "But. You're a dude."

The swamp witch laughs. "Pretty and smart. What can I do you for, darlin'?" he asks, blue eyes twinkling in the late afternoon sun.

Troy gets this funny feeling, like the swamp witch can see right through him. He feels his face heat up. "I hear you can make things happen," he says.

"Oh, honey," the swamp witch says. "I can make _anything_ happen."

Troy swallows hard. There's a witch, and he's a dude, and he's hot. It's a lot to process. "I want to succeed to the absolute best of my abilities all the time."

The swamp witch cocks his head. "That's it?"

"I've got the talent to do what I need," Troy says honestly. "I don't even need good luck, really. Just an absence of bad luck."

The swamp witch shrugs. "If that's what you want, I can do it. But first I require payment."

Troy fights back a jolt of fear. What could a witch want? Blood? His soul? His firstborn? "What kind of payment?"

The swamp witch rolls his eyes. "Money, son. Cash on the barrel head. This ain't no fairytale. I'm runnin' a business here."

Troy sighs in relief. “How much?”

The swamp witch comes down off the porch, moving slow and languid. “Give me your wallet,” he says.

Troy hesitates but does as he’s asked. If he’s going to get robbed in a swamp, so be it.

The swamp witch huffs out a laugh. “Boy, this wallet ain’t thick enough to have what I’m worth in it.” 

He opens Troy’s wallet, takes out a $20, and shoves it in his pocket. He has to shimmy to do it because his pants are so tight. Troy only tracks his movements a little bit.

“So,” the swamp witch drawls, “Once you’re gone, I’m gonna take this bill, do something you won’t understand that would take five minutes to explain, and the transaction will be complete. You’ll get ten years of what you want. And I’m gonna need a check for $250,000.00. The cash is symbolic. Also, I need to kiss you. I’m not gettin’ fresh; it’s about transfer of intent.”

Troy sighs. Of course. Kiss the smoking hot witch. What could go wrong?

“Okay,” he agrees. “Which one first?”

“Check first. Gotta keep my priorities straight,” the swamp witch says with a grin.

Troy digs his checkbook out of his back pocket. “Got a pen?” he asks.

The swamp witch snaps his fingers, and one appears in Troy’s hand. He blinks at it, and the swamp witch laughs.

“You’re adorable. Let’s go, boy, time’s a-wastin’,” the swamp witch says.

Troy fights to urge to squirm under the swamp witch’s gaze. He makes out the check as quickly as he can, leaving the payable to field blank. He can’t exactly write a check to “The Swamp Witch.” He hands over the check, and the swamp witch gives his wallet back to him. Troy focuses on putting his wallet back in his pocket so he doesn't have to watch the swamp witch put the check in his.

The swamp witch takes a step forward, getting right up in Troy’s space. “You need to kiss me,” he says. “On the mouth. Nothin’ involved, but it has to be done.”

Troy licks his lips nervously. He gingerly places his hands on Josh’s shoulders. “Okay?” he asks.

“Better than,” the swamp witch says with a little smirk.

Troy doesn't stare. It takes effort. He leans down and kisses the swamp witch carefully, gently. He means to keep it just a peck, but the swamp witch presses into it, and suddenly the swamp witch has his hand on the back of Troy’s neck. Troy’s not sure who started using tongue, but there’s definitely tongue, and it’s good, really good.

After a few moments, the swamp witch pulls back. He grins. “Anything worth doin’ is worth doin’ right, I suppose.” 

He lets his eyes flick up and down Troy’s body, not hiding his appreciation.

The swamp witch is hot. Really hot. And a dude. And apparently only interested in money and not Troy’s soul or blood or first born or whatever, which is good. Except Troy, heaven help him, can’t keep from looking the swamp witch up and down in return even now that money has changed hands. He’s been promised ten years of good health and lack of disasters, he’s paid the man an obscene amount of money, and he should be on his way out of this damn swamp before something devours him whole, but the swamp witch’s eyes are so damn blue.

“Do you have a name? Other than the swamp witch?” Troy blurts out.

The swamp witch raises an eyebrow. “No, my mama put Swamp Witch on my birth certificate. Of course I have a name. It’s a damn good thing you’re cute.”

Troy can feel himself blushing again. “Will you tell me what it is?” he asks. “Please?”

The swamp witch grins. “Oh, that’s pretty. Well, since you asked so nice, my mama named me Joshua. You can call me Josh.”

Troy blinks. “That is not what I expected. I’m Troy.”

“I know, honey. You think I don’t know who’s comin’ to see me?” Josh asks with a smirk. “Plus you just wrote me a check. I can read, believe it or not.”

He turns around and walks back up the porch steps, stopping at the top to look down at Troy. “Well, boy, you comin’?”

Troy licks his lips. His mouth is dry. The back of his neck feels hot. “Yeah,” he says, quickly following Josh onto the porch.

“Damn, boy, you’ve got legs a country mile long. I like that in a man,” Josh says as he settles onto the porch swing, because of course a male witch living in a swamp in Florida has a porch swing with a neat little seersucker cushion.

Troy swallows, feeling his throat click. “Is that so?”

Josh stretches his arm out on the back of the swing. “It is. Come on, Troy, sit a spell. You ain’t got what you came for yet, not by a damn sight.”

Troy sits, holding himself very still so as to not press back into Josh’s arm. “I didn’t?” he asks, confused. “I came to make a deal. I did.”

Josh grins. “Oh, darlin’. You came out here because you feel reckless and desperate and a little bit mean. I like that in a man too.”

Troy tenses up, then relaxes. He lets himself lean into Josh the tiniest bit. Josh isn’t wrong. Troy’s been feeling lots of things. Desperation and anger are definitely in the mix, along with desire and determination and pure cussedness.

“Maybe I do feel a little mean,” Troy says carefully. “I don’t think I feel mean toward you, though.”

Josh grins, eyes flashing in the waning light of the evening. “Even if I want you to?”

Troy shivers. He can’t help it, doesn’t think he wants to. The heat is thick out here, settling heavily over him, so he knows it’s not the cold.

“Not too mean,” Troy says, daring to look Josh in the eye.

“How about just a little mean?” Josh asks. He brings his hand up to drag his fingers through Troy’s short hair, and Troy presses back into Josh’s touch.

“Only if I can be nice too,” Troy says quietly. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He hopes he’s doing this.

Josh laughs. “Darlin’,” he says as he stands up, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He holds his hand out to Troy. “Reckon you best come in the house. There’s no neighbors, but the bugs’ll eat you alive out here.”

Troy blinks. “That’s just an expression, right?” he asks.

Josh snorts. “Lord, boy, don’t make me think twice about asking a Yankee into my bed. Yes, it’s an expression. Now, you comin’ in the house or what?”

Troy takes Josh’s hand. It’s a little smaller than Troy’s but still big, warm and calloused. Troy starts to stand, and Josh yanks on his hand, hard, making Troy collide with Josh, bodies flush together. Josh wraps his arms around Troy and leans in to nose against Troy’s neck. Troy groans.

“Yeah,” he says, voice tight. “I’d like that.”

Josh responds with a kiss to Troy’s jaw. “Good,” Josh says. “You thought you seen magic, son, but that was nothin’. I can do things you’ve only dreamed of, and that’s without any spells a’tall.” 

He shoves off Troy’s chest with both hands and walks toward the door, looking over his shoulder as he goes. “Leave your shoes out on the porch,” he says. It’s not a request.

Troy nods, hurriedly kicking off his shoes. “Whatever you want,” he says. He means it.

Josh smirks. “Oh, darlin’, you can’t give a man an opening like that,” he says. “I’ll settle for you fuckin’ me until you can’t anymore. How many times you think you can get it up?” he asks.

“I, uh, three? Maybe four? I don’t know,” Troy sputters. He can feel his cheeks turning pink again.

“Oh, now, that _is_ pretty. Don’t worry, boy, I got a potion to help with that. Now get your ass inside,” Josh says. He disappears into the house, screen door banging against the frame. 

Troy blinks, then follows. He might be a fool, but he’s not stupid.


End file.
